


Killing School Afterlife

by Calypso333



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calypso333/pseuds/Calypso333
Summary: SPOILERS FOR DANGANRONPA TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOCWhen Sayaka Maizono wakes up, she’s dead. It’s no surprise. She *was* murdered, after all. The afterlife isn’t what she expects though. Soon she’ll be joined by the rest of her deceased classmates, although Sayaka really can’t tell if that’s a good thing...Join Mukuro and Sayaka being girlfriends in the afterlife and having a lot to say about the events of the killing school life.
Relationships: Ikusaba Mukuro/Maizono Sayaka
Kudos: 33





	1. Sayaka’s Panic

When Sayaka woke up, she was in a room she’d never seen before. She was sitting on a couch, a nice ivory one with soft cushions that were rather comfy. Where was she? The room itself was wonderful like someone had rooted through her thoughts and made her ideal bedroom, but it was less “Why this room looked like this,” and more “Where the hell am I?”

Sayaka looked down. A kitchen knife was stuck in her stomach up to the handle. A scream started building in her throat before she remembered what happened. Oh, that’s right. 

She was dead. 

She stood up wobbly, the floor swaying beneath her. Was this heaven? Did she even deserve to be here? Sayaka didn’t think Hell was supposed to look like a five-star hotel room. Or maybe, just maybe, this was a dream. She wanted it to be a dream. 

There was a full-length mirror against a wall, and when she dragged herself over to it, a wave of hopelessness crashed over her. Sayaka Maizono was truly, undoubtedly, dead.

Her sob broke through the silence. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. Why? Why her? She couldn’t take it.

She had always been a good person, always tried to do the right thing, always looked towards the moral high ground. And she was repaid for this by being trapped in a hellhole fighting just to stay alive another day?

Even in that situation, she’d stayed positive. She befriended the rest of the kids, tried hard to keep everyone together. Then her idol group, the one thing she treasured more than anything, the living representation of the dream she had sacrificed everything for, was taken from her. She could get them back by resorting to only one thing, stealing another person’s life for her gain. 

And she had caved. But her plan failed. It wasn’t supposed to have failed. Nothing was “supposed” to have gone this way, nothing! 

Trembling with anger and sadness and too many emotions for her to comprehend, Sayaka closed her fist around the knife and yanked it out. It came out rather painlessly, although it could have hurt like hell at the moment and Sayaka wouldn’t have cared. The blood staining her stomach and clothes faded away until her uniform was completely clean. As if by magic, the shirt’s ragged hole where she had been stabbed closed, her open wound stitching itself back up as well. 

Sayaka turned away from the mirror, tears still streaming down her face, and threw the knife at the floor. It clattered to the ground loudly, spinning on the handle before coming to a stop. 

She sank to her knees. Sayaka’s energy was gone. Her motivation to do anything but curl up into a ball was gone. Her life was gone. She squeezed her eyes shut, gasping for breath to stop the crying. 

When she opened them, a few minutes later, desperate to distract herself, she focused on the floor. It was a rather weird floor. 

It looked like a huge cloud, but it was completely solid where she stood. Like a sheet of glass over the milky white fog, giving the illusion you were floating in the sky. Was she, in fact, in the sky? She still couldn’t tell what this place was supposed to be. Was she going to be trapped in this room alone for eternity? 

It wasn’t a horrible room, but the thought of being trapped in any place ever again made Sayaka start to shake. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. 

The walls were white, with large framed posters of what seemed to be a girl group. On closer inspection, they were Sayaka’s idol group. A bittersweet sensation twisted in her stomach. These posters represented her greatest accomplishments, but right now all they did was remind her of her present situation. 

In one, the five smiling faces of Sayaka and her bandmates sitting together stared back at her. Tears pricked at her eyes yet again. She lifted her hand and rested it against the frame. For a few seconds, memories overwhelmed her, and then her head cleared and her hand fell back down against her side. 

In the middle of the back wall, there was a bed, big enough for about two people. It had a small gauzy canopy over it, and pale pink sheets that looked incredibly comfortable. Above the headboard was a small window, although Sayaka didn’t care to look out of it just yet. Next to the bed was the full-length mirror she’d looked in earlier, and on the other side, a dainty rose-colored nightstand. 

A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, spreading a soft light around the room, and Sayaka almost smiled. It was just like the one she’d wanted for her room but was unable to get. There was a small, circular, pastel pink rug near the end of her bed directly under the chandelier as well. 

Between the posters on the walls parallel to each other were two doors, and when Sayaka opened both of them she found one was a tiny bathroom with a toilet, shower, sink, and another smaller mirror. The drawer under the sink had basic toiletries. The other door was a closet with nothing but another identical uniform, a pink frilled dress, accessories, and boots she commonly wore for performances, and a pair of soft-looking lounge clothes and slippers.

Sayaka was scanning the room yet again when she finally realized the wall across from the bed had a door with a fancy script depicting “exit.”

The couch she’d woke up on was next to the door, which explained why she hadn’t seen when she had awoken. Sayaka ran towards the door, reaching for the handle. It came open easily, and she stepped out uncertainly. 

The sight amazed her. A huge rectangular room awaited her, with a crystal clear dome as the ceiling, showing the night sky speckled with stars. The floor was the same glassy fog as in her room, and there was a large polished mahogany table in the middle with at least fifteen seats. The walls across from the door Sayaka had come out of had many other doors, similar to the entrance to her room. When she looked to the side, she realized there was a row of doors on each side, although they were all blank except her own, which had her name displayed above it and a decorative microphone depicted on it. Various couches and TVs were scattered around the room.

A banner hung on one of the walls. Sayaka squinted to read it from so far away. 

“Welcome, 78th Class!” 

Upon reading the banner, an iron hot spike of pain hit her in the head. She kneeled over, clutching the sides of her head, and gasped loudly. At once a rush of memories came back to her. 

Hope’s Peak. Two years. The Tragedy. The barricading. 

She staggered over to one of the chairs at the table and pulled herself onto it. It took her a while to sort through all of them, but when she did, her confusion only increased. 

Where had these memories been? They felt so real, and looking back at it, she felt like an idiot forever forgetting them in the first place. But if they were true, and had occurred, that meant something had happened to her to make her forget them. 

No, it was too confusing. She couldn’t do this right now. 

Absentmindedly, she gazed at the floor. What was happening to the rest of the students right now? Her thoughts moved to Leon, shuddering. What was he doing right now? Celebrating his crime, excited at the fact he’d be able to escape? Overwhelmed by what he’d done? Desperate to not get caught out of fear of what might happen to him? 

As if reading her mind, a circle of fog on the floor dissipated and showed Leon. She gasped, pushing her chair away, the loud screeching of the chair legs ringing in her ears. It showed him heading back to his room, opening the dorm door, and sliding into his bed. 

Sayaka blinked a few times. Could she see what everyone was doing now? Was this how she would be able to watch over the rest of her friends?

“Makoto Naegi,” she whispered aloud, her breath catching in her throat. 

The scene changed. It showed him, curled up in her bed, snoring contentedly. Guilt swirled around her chest. Tomorrow morning, he would wake up and find himself trapped in a crime that was never meant to happen. Was her dying message even enough? Would the rest of the kids figure it out and clear his name? 

Sayaka knew exactly what would happen. Makoto had been a large part of her plan, and now that would be working in Leon’s favor. And what would even happen if Leon was caught as the murderer? And if he wasn’t? If he got away with it, did that mean anything bad for the rest of the students? A chill ran down Sayaka’s spine. They had to figure it out. 

Then she remembered. Kyoko could solve it. She was the Ultimate Detective. Sayaka had always thought Kyoko was so cool during their time at Hope’s Peak before the Tragedy, with her talent and composure. If the girl lived up to her Ultimate at all, Kyoko could clear Makoto’s name. She had to. 

Tiredness wore at Sayaka’s limbs. Saying she was drained of all motivation and energy right now was an understatement She couldn’t think about this right now. There was nothing she could do anymore. Not now, not ever. The only thing she could bring herself to accomplish was dragging herself back to her room. 

Her bed was soft. It smelled of her room back home, like rosewater and vanilla candles. Sayaka wanted to go back home. That couldn’t happen though, could it? 

The thought filled her eyes with tears. She didn’t bother trying to stop them at all this time. There was no point. Sayaka ended up crying herself to sleep. She didn’t think it would be the last time that ever happened.


	2. A New Day

Sayaka opened her eyes. Light poured through the window above her bed. For a minute, she didn’t remember where she was, but soon the memories flooded back to her. 

She didn’t plan to get out of bed for the rest of the day. She was already dead, it wasn’t like she needed food or water or anything, and there was nobody else around she needed to be awake for. So yeah, the plan for today was to stay in bed and go into a coma or something. That’s was until a loud chiming sound rang out from beyond her door, carrying itself to Sayaka’s ears.

She frowned. What in the world was that? She didn’t remember setting any alarms. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she pulled herself out of her bed to the door.

Sayaka caught a glance of herself in her mirror. She looked horrible. She hadn’t even bothered to change out of her uniform, her hair was disheveled, and her makeup was smeared under her eyes. Her shoulders sagged. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. 

She looked away from her ragged appearance and trudged through the door into the large lounge. The chime went off again, and she turned around. There appeared to be something of a message board under the 78th class banner that she hadn’t noticed yesterday. Sayaka tilted her head, her frown deepening. She stumbled to the board. 

“Sayaka Maizono’s body has been discovered”

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Sayaka’s gaze darted to the floor for a split second, mind racing. Her voice didn’t seem to work for a moment. “M-Makoto Naegi please! Show me him!”

Close to tears yet again, Sayaka sank onto her knees to peer at the floor. The fog faded, and a scene unfolded. 

Makoto had passed out in his bathroom upon seeing her body. The rest of the students had rushed to his dorm when they heard his scream. One by one they filed into the bathroom, each gasping in horror at the sight of her. 

One thing, in particular, caught Sayaka’s eye. Junko’s reaction seemed... delayed somehow. The fashionista regarded the cadaver with a mildly surprised glance, before her eyes darted to the other students, and as if she was remembering to react, she feigned a gasp and let out a scream like all the others. It... was probably nothing to get caught up about though.

A moment later, a ring sounded, and Monokuma appeared on a   
monitor, announcing a body had been discovered. The fourteen were instructed to gather in the gym, and somberly they complied. Hiro stayed behind to grab Makoto and drag him to the gym as well. 

About 20 minutes later, Makoto woke up. He was panicking. Why wouldn’t he be panicking? Sayaka herself was panicking and she was already dead. Then Monokuma appeared. 

It was confusing quite frankly. She couldn’t comprehend it. When Monokuma announced the rules of the trial, a chill shot down Sayaka’s spine, turning her blood to ice. 

W-what? They would all die if the killer got away with it? No. No, it couldn’t be. Why were those rules? That... that hadn’t been explained. She thought they just needed to point the finger, that was all. And then she could walk free, and get help and rescue the others and her bandmates. That was why she’d done all this. That was why she’d murdered all things!

Sayaka began to dry heave. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. It was. Shit. 

The rest of the conversation went fuzzy to her ears. Her vision swam and spots started clouding her gaze. Fear gripped Sayaka. Was she going to black out? 

Panicking, she planted her palms against the floor, attempting to steady herself. Her breath kept hitching in her throat, like it was getting caught on something instead of letting her breath properly, but she bright herself back to reality enough to tune back into the conversation. 

Junko was... stepping on Monokuma? What? Right underneath Junko’s black platform boot was Monokuma, sure as hell. The fashionista seemed pretty pleased with herself, even stopping to taunt the bear. 

At his reply though, Sayaka frowned. Violence against the headmaster? A scene flashed in Sayaka’s head. Monokuma exploding in the air after Mondo had provoked and thrown him. “Junko!” She cried, her heart speeding up. 

Then he called for the spears 

They hit Junko. It was like they had come out of nowhere, striking her all across her abdomen and chest. Sayaka let out a hoarse scream, beginning to shake uncontrollably. No. No no no no no. This wasn’t happening. She couldn’t do anything but watch in absolute horror. Junko was bleeding everywhere, dripping crimson red onto the floor and her clothes, and she was twitching and forcing words out and the look on her face was enough to get Sayaka sobbing horribly. 

She’d never seen the moment someone’s life ended. Even when it was happing to herself, even when she was the one getting stabbed, she hadn’t been watching it. She’d been experiencing it, yes, and that was probably even worse, but she hadn’t seen it. 

But now she was looking at it. She was looking at the bloody figure of Junko eye’s shoot wide open, and she was staring right down at her when she toppled over and stopped moving for good.

She probably would’ve sat there for hours not knowing what to do with herself if she hadn’t seen something flicker in the corner of her eye. Sayaka looked up, her vision blurry from tears, and noticed the door to the room next to hers developing a design. Wait. What?

Sayaka tried to get up, but her knees shook and gave out. The amount of crying she’d done in the last twenty-four hours had most likely taken quite a toll on her. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long for an answer to her question.

The door to the room flew open. A girl darted out, her figure marred by countless spears. Sayaka yelped like a hurt puppy. Junko was here? Was that why....?

Sayaka finally got it. This place was the afterlife for the students killed in the killing game. No one else was here because until now, Sayaka had been the only one dead. But now Junko was here. She’d have company. Sayaka couldn’t tell if this was a good thing or not. 

Junko’s gaze locked on Sayaka. “Wh-? Sayaka? What are you doing here? Where am I? What... happened?”

Sayaka picked the worst moment to become incredibly self-conscious. She realized what she must look like, on her knees having a panic attack in a wrinkled uniform with knotted hair and makeup smeared under her eyes.

Still, she wiped at her eyes and forced herself up. She staggered over to Junko. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You- you’re dead. Monokuma killed you. And this is the afterlife for students killed in the killing game.”

Junko stared at her, eyes blank. Slowly, her gray-violet gaze fell to the spears in her stomach. A heart-wrenching expression came over Junko’s face. Sayaka would’ve moved forward to hug her if there weren’t several sharp bloody metal objects protruding from her body. 

“She did? She...?”

Junko’s voice was barely a whisper. It sounded different than Sayaka remembered. Junko looked slightly different than her memories portrayed her. Whatever. It was probably nothing. 

“W-what do you mean? She? Who’s she? Junko, are you-“

“Are you sure?” Junko broke in, her eyes flaring, “This is a dream, it has to be. There’s no way she’d kill me, she... loves me.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she stammered, panicking flickering across her face, backing up like cornered prey, “Why? She s-said I’d-“

Sayaka frowned. Junko was in shock, she had to be. This wouldn’t do, she had to snap out of it. Funny how Sayaka allowed herself to lay in her bed for hours crying for the same reasons, but the minute someone else was experiencing the same thing, she was able to reign herself in. 

Sayaka huffed and grabbed at one of the spears. She pulled it straight out, stumbling backward as she did. “Junko! Get a hold of yourself!” She shouted, waving the spear around. 

“Nothing good will come out of panic. Get yourself cleaned up a-and then calm down! It’s okay it is. The door you came out of, it was your room. G-go back in there and shower or something!”

Junko stared at her, shocked for a moment. Sayaka couldn’t blame her. She wasn’t used to being so forceful. Awkwardly, Sayaka handed the spear back to Junko. 

Junko’s shock seemed to be subsiding, beginning to replace with no expression at all. That was… worrying. Absentmindedly, Junko grabbed the spear, her face blank, and wandered like a zombie back into her room. Sayaka sighed heavily. What was wrong with her? Who was “she?” Why did Junko look and sound different? 

Sayaka’s head hurt, both figuratively and literally. She had so many questions, but they could only be answered by Junko herself. And she’d cried so much, dehydration clawed at her throat and made her head pound. Even in death, her panic attacks weren’t going easy on her. A voice rang inside her head.

Jesus, Sayaka, wise up and take your advice. You just forced Junko to go “take a shower” and “calm down,” and you didn’t even give her a whole day to mope in bed like a sorry idiot, unlike some preppy pop idol you know. 

Sayaka didn’t remember her internal monologue being so harsh when she was alive. But Mental Sayaka was right. What kind of image was she projecting to people at the moment?

She was aware she no longer had an image to project, but it was easier to get stuff done if she kept the mindset she’d had when she was making decisions as an idol. 

She took a step towards her door and her vision promptly blacked out. Shit.

Sayaka stumbled to her room, her hand against her forehead. She probably looked like a drunk hobbling out of a bar at the moment. What a nice mental picture that was put in her mind.


	3. Feeling Refreshed

20 minutes later, Sayaka was raking a brush through her hair after a shower in a fresh uniform. It was amazing how much a hot shower could do for you. She still wanted to crawl into a hole and die (again?) but it was easier to think when she was feeling slightly more refreshed.

She still hadn’t had anything to drink or eat in at least two days, because the day before she died Sayaka had found she couldn’t stomach anything, not even water. Attempting murder can do that to a girl. 

Her dehydration and lack of appetite were probably bad. Were there even food and beverages here? It wasn’t like she could pass away again when she was already dead, but feeling starved and thirsty weren’t exactly ideal living conditions. 

Sayaka turned and tossed the brush on her bed. She grabbed the three pink butterfly clips she’d set down as well and began to clip her hair back out of her face. She’d found the clips in her nightstand drawer when rooting through it, and they’d been the first thing to give her a small burst of serotonin in a while. Sayaka had immediately discarded her plain silver Bobby-pins upon discovering them. While she still couldn’t bring herself to smile again just yet, the girl did think the barrettes looked rather nice. 

Now it was time to make her reappearance. A million questions still flitted across her thoughts, but she squashed them down and tried to mold her face into an expression that didn’t look so depressed. It was a little sad how easy it was for her. 

Sayaka turned around and made her way to the door. She slipped on her Mary Janes and then walked into the lounge. 

Junko wasn’t there yet, so Sayaka allowed herself to relax ever so slightly. She figured she could sit and wait for a little, so she headed to the table in the center, and seated herself at one of the chairs. A moment passed, and Sayaka’s stomach rumbled. She crossed her arms over her midsection uncomfortably, chewing at her lip. Impatient, Sayaka looked over her shoulder at the doors behind. Still no Junko.

When she turned back to the table, a plate with scrambled eggs and one piece of toast with a glass of water was waiting. She yelped in surprised. Where had that come from? It was like magic, one minute it wasn’t there, the next it was. But the magic didn’t exist, so how? It then occurred to her the rules of logic didn’t apply in the afterlife. 

So that’s it then. A magic table that serves toast to dead people. Yeah, seems legit. 

But Sayaka didn’t have time to stress over this. She was too hungry. Without hesitation, she grabbed the fork next to the plate and dug in. 

Sayaka was already on the toast when she heard steps coming up behind her. Her eyes widened and she dropped the toast back on the plate, grabbing her napkin to wipe her mouth and hands. She pushed the chair back, and stood up, stopping for a second to brush off her skirt, and turned around.

It took her a few seconds to process it. Then she gasped. 

She knew the person standing in front of her. But she didn’t know them as Junko Enoshima.

“Mukuro?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one, sorry about that! Switching POVs next time, so look forward to a Mukuro chapter!


	4. The Despair of the Soldier

The first thing Mukuro had done when she woke up in an unfamiliar room was going for the door. She didn’t even look around or stop to wonder why she was seemingly impaled. She just dashed. When she got outside, things only got more confusing. Sayaka Maizono was there, who Mukuro was, like, 99% sure had died this morning. Why was she seeing a dead person?

Then the questions came. A possibility was taking form in Mukuro’s mind and she wasn’t liking it one bit. There was no way it could be true. Could it?

Of course, her question was answered the minute Sayaka opened her mouth. And then Mukuro’s world came crashing down.

Junko had killed her. 

She knew Junko would do anything to feel the ultimate despair. It shouldn’t have affected Mukuro that much. But it did.

Mukuro wasn’t supposed to have died. The plan was she defied Monokuma after the trial rules were explained, and then she was “locked away,” and she then helped Junko with the game, and... and... 

She wasn’t supposed to end up impaled by spears purposefully named after Gungnir to mock her mercenary group, and to reestablish her previous point, she wasn’t supposed to fucking die. Nothing was “supposed” to have gone this way, nothing! 

And then Sayaka had sent her back to her room. Why did she even have a room? Where was she? Heaven? Hell? Limbo or some shit?

The room itself was *way* bigger than the laws of physics (or whatever the word she was looking for was) should have allowed.

The walls of her room were a tawny color, the floor perfectly poured silvery concrete. The back half had bookshelves full of military magazines against the walls, and hanging rows of knives and guns that any devoted soldier would have died and gone to heaven upon seeing. Mukuro was already dead so that metaphor didn’t apply to her, but they were nice. If she weren’t currently sad and angry and no longer alive, she would have been pretty interested. 

Her bed, a neatly made military cot, was in the corner against two walls, and a little ways away were a few benches spaced between the bookshelves where she could curl up and read about the latest survival gear if she felt like it.

She did not feel like it.

The front half, where you entered, was a large training area with a sturdy mat, target practice, dummies and everything. Top notch stuff.

But that wasn’t the point. Mukuro wasn’t here for any of this. She was here 

So she wandered to one of the doors at the back of her room, and opened it. A small closet with her usual white button-up and red bow, along with knee-length leggings and combat boots. Lounge clothes and a high-grade military outfit were stored away in there as well

Mukuro didn’t have the energy to close the closet again, so she just turned and stumbled to the other door. That one proved to be a sparse bathroom equipped with a toilet, shower, and sink with a mirror above it. 

Mukuro looked in the mirror, realizing she was still in her disguise. Clasped in one of her fists was the spear Sayaka had torn out of her torso. The rest were still embedded in her body. It hadn’t occurred to her that she didn’t look like herself until she saw the face of Junko Enoshima in the mirror. Her stomach rolled at the sight of it, and she grabbed for the counter with her free hand to steady herself. 

Desperately trying to rid herself of this uncharacteristic sickness in her stomach, Mukuro ripped off her wig and wig cap and threw them on the floor. She yanked out all the spears as well, tossing them on the ground.

Mukuro added her tie to the pile and stared at the heap of her Junko accessories, feeling absolutely, utterly, lost. 

The thing was, this shouldn’t have bothered Mukuro so much. She was supposed to be an Ultimate Despair. This should’ve been the best thing to happen to her in ages, feeling the despair of death. But that wasn’t the case. If you had asked Mukuro why she did everything she did, the honest answer wouldn’t be because she wanted to feel despair, it was because she’d done it for Junko.

Everything Mukuro had done, she’d done for Junko. Mukuro didn’t want to cause The Tragedy. She hadn’t wanted to drive thousands of reserve course kids to their deaths. Never for a minute did she want to imprison her classmates and force them into a killing game. The only thing she had wanted? 

Actually... Mukuro wasn’t sure. Junko’s love? Her acceptance? Acknowledgment that Mukuro existed as more then a tool to do her dirty work? 

Mukuro squeezed her eyes shut. No. Junko did love her. She accepted her too. Junko was the only one who did, honestly. But why-?

Why was she here then? If Junko loved her then...

The answer isn’t going to change. Get over it. Junko saw a chance and took it. It’s just like her to do that. That’s why you love her, and the despair she brings. 

Of course, that’s what it was. So why did Mukuro still feel doubtful? 

She hated that doubt. She wanted to do everything in her power to get rid of that doubt. 

The sickness was still rooted in her stomach, but Mukuro’s curiosity was getting the better of her. Sayaka had to have some answers about this place, right? And Mukuro needed to get her mind off what had happened. So she took a shaky breath, digging her fingernails into her palm, and switched on the shower. 

I love Junko. I’d do anything to bring her the despair she craves. This is an honor. If I have to die, it should be for Junko anyway. I’m happy about this. 

Mukuro repeated those sentences like a mantra in her head, over and over. By the time she was out of the shower and dressed, the words were so ingrained in her mind she would probably be saying them in her sleep. 

As she headed for the door back to the big room with the couches (she didn’t exactly know what it was called. Common room? Living area?), it occurred to Mukuro that Sayaka didn’t know the events behind the killing game. If she did, she would’ve known it wasn’t Junko, but Mukuro, when Mukuro showed up here. Sayaka would have already know Junko was the mastermind, and everything else. So when Sayaka saw Mukuro...

Mukuro sighed. She had a lot of explaining to do, huh? Yippee. 

The last thing the soldier wanted to do right now was explain her sister’s elaborate despair plot to a mentally unstable dead idol girl. But here she was. 

Wasn’t her life afterlife great?

But if Mukuro could drop in overhead during a crossfire between two sides of a war stone faced, she could do this. Never mind the fact Mukuro herself didn’t quite understand Junko’s plan either. 

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and headed for the door back out.


End file.
